Under the Mistletoe
by The Blue Raven
Summary: At Oxford, the Five celebrate Christmas with a friendly party. Then the mistletoe comes out. John/Helen, James/Helen, John/James


**Author's Note:** Just some Christmas fun :) Multiship the way only a fic featuring the Five can be...

 **Under the Mistletoe**

It was a simple Christmas get-together, just a few hours spent in celebration of the upcoming holiday and the end of the semester. The five of them had become good friends during the past several months sharing classes and lab-space together, so it had seemed only natural to invite them to her father's house for a party. He'd been a little reluctant for her to have 'a pack of strange men' over to the house, but she'd merely had to flutter her lashes. He'd given in, of course, as he always did to his little girl.

So Helen Magnus had four 'strange' men in her sitting room, in a Christmas celebration that was, perhaps, more rowdy than Gregory would have been entirely comfortable with. Fortunately, her father was out of town chasing after some abnormal or other. He was miles away, would never hear the off-key singing Nigel had commenced after his third glass of wine, or the laughter and applause of John and James as they goaded him on.

Nikola, who had been enjoying the wine as much as Nigel himself, was watching the whole display with a slightly bemused, slightly scornful look. Smiling at him, Helen shook her head faintly, glancing tolerantly at the others. The relief of finishing the semester, and of all doing so with excellent grades, had left them in a rowdy mood that was not just amusing but which actually warmed her heart as well. She'd always loved and worshipped her father growing up, cherished their time together, but watching these men make merry left her with an altogether unaccustomed sense of _family_.

Smiling to herself, she sipped her wine as her friends continued to be silly. It was enchanting to see them so free and easy, given how serious they usually were in their academic pursuits.

And then it happened. James produced a sprig of mistletoe, as if out of thin air.

Her stomach swooped with a pleasing combination of anxiety and anticipation as the dear young man approached. She'd long suspected his little crush on her, but he'd never actually pushed the matter before this. Nor, she supposed, was a request for a quick kiss under the mistletoe actually pushing it. No doubt, after this, he would go back to being his usual, reserved self.

The others were watching, and it was hard to ignore the slightly jealous, almost angry look on John's face. But he schooled his features so quickly that she found herself wondering if she had imagined it. After all, it was only a friendly Christmas kiss.

A friendly, tender Christmas kiss full of so much admiration and affection that it took her breath away. It was almost heartbreaking, how much fond regard James poured into the gentle kiss. If he was not in love with her, he must feel something close, and it made her feel terrible for her friend. Because, above all else, he _was_ only a dear friend. But then he drew back from the kiss, with a warm smile and a quiet 'thanks' and it was all over. His eyes bore an almost-teasing expression, as if he had not just made a confession with that warm kiss, and he winked at her as he straightened. It was, then, she gathered, to be their little secret that his feelings were more than friendly.

"Right, then. Who's next?" he teased, eyes sweeping the room.

Nigel laughed and Nikola looked frankly appalled. John's expression changed from unreadable to amused, the residual defensiveness melting from his manner as if it had never been there.

"Well, if you insist on having a go with _all_ of us, old boy..."

"It's only traditional," James pointed out.

"The British have some strange traditions, then," Nikola answered shortly, frowning.

John seized James by the shirt and kissed him without answering Nikola, and Helen squirmed a bit. Something about watching the two rather handsome men kiss left her feeling rather... moved. There was such enthusiasm in the act that she had no trouble believing that they'd done it before. Probably more than once, and not merely as a matter of 'tradition' on Christmas. She'd known, of course, that they'd been friends before Oxford, but it was unusual to think of them as... more than friends, especially when John often seemed quite determined to court her. Of course, she'd know that men sometimes had such relationships, and certainly neither had ever been exactly conventional in their ways.

She felt warm by the time they broke away from each other, and draining her wineglass seemed the most natural response in the world to the sight she'd just beheld. It would stay with her, she was sure, and she wouldn't mind seeing it again. A wicked part of her thought she might even like to... participate in such things herself, and she fleetingly wondered how it would feel to steal kisses from them, each in turn. Because, even if the kiss with James had been only a friendly exchange, it _had_ felt good, left her lips feeling warm and tender and her heart fluttering a bit. Surely a more passionate kiss like the one he had just shared with John would have taken her breath away. And the idea of being seized by John and kissed like that... taken possession of and all but devoured with such blatant desire and appreciation...

Swallowing hard, she refilled her wine and took a long gulp, struggling to ignore the almost frighteningly physical way her body reacted to that concept. If that was how John Druitt kissed, she might just let him court her after all. He was normally so quiet and diffident, but the kiss with James had revealed a side to him that she hadn't fully guessed at before. A side that told her that being courted by him could be extremely rewarding. That wicked part of her mind wondered how it would feel to be courted by both at once, not out of any desire to see actual competition between the two, but out of a genuine, if inappropriate, curiosity as to how their styles would differ.

The room was silent except for the crackle of the fire and the rather heavy breathing of John and James. Her own breathing was fast and shallow, too, if she was being honest, but she did her best to ignore it, and knew the gentlemen would do likewise, as long as she didn't do anything as undignified as swooning. She'd never swooned in her life, but part of her wanted to, just to see their reaction, to feel John's strong hands and James' gentle ones as they roused her. For that matter, it would be gratifying in a different way to have Nigel and Nikola hovering protectively over her. But she'd never been one for displays of feminine weakness, and had no desire to alarm the gentlemen now by giving way to the slight faintness she'd been suffering since watching that kiss.

"Who's next?" she teased instead, forcing brightness into her voice and a smile onto her face.

It would be an interesting experiment to see if she reacted on such a physical level to seeing the others kissing. Neither was unattractive, after all, and she certainly felt fondly towards each, in their own way. They would kiss awkwardly, Nigel and Nikola, she was sure, but that wouldn't necessarily diminish her enjoyment. The idea of getting enjoyment from the sight of two men kissing was such an odd one but, having derived it once, there was no reason why she might not again. Watching John and James had awakened something shockingly primal inside of her, and that dark, improper corner of her mind was demanding more of the same.

"I know I've had a lot of wine, but I'm not sure I've had quite that much," Nigel chuckled, shaking his head.

"Then at least share a kiss with Helen!" James advised, smiling warmly at the innocent young man. "It's a sin to let Christmas pass without at least one kiss under the mistletoe..."

Helen had to smile at that, it was so like James. Since their first meeting, he'd never failed in that combination of kindly and teasing. He was always friendly, always had a generous spirit, but he could never resist the urge to encourage others to take life less seriously than they might otherwise. He couldn't stand what he called the unnatural stiffness and formality of modern society, even if she'd known him to fall back on both stiffness and formality himself in times of distress.

"You want me to kiss Helen?" Nigel laughed, his boyish face turning red at the prospect. "Oh, do be serious, James!"

"And why shouldn't you kiss her?" James countered, raising an eyebrow. "Assuming of course she has no objections. Helen?"

"Very kind of you to finally remember to ask," she countered, giving him a Look.

"Oh, Helen, don't be cross," he wheedled, his laughing eyes making it clear that he knew full well she wasn't actually. "It's a Christmas tradition."

"And do the Watsons always take such liberties with such time-honoured traditions? Men kissing men, indeed. And trying to coerce poor Nigel into kissing someone he clearly has no wish to kiss..." she mock-chided.

The result of her statement was predictable. Nigel was quick to point out, "I never said I didn't _want_ to kiss you!"

She chuckled at that, smiling warmly at her friend as James held the mistletoe over her head. "Oh, in that case..."

"Blimey," he whispered, staring at her with wide eyes for a moment before taking an awkward step forward.

"Don't be scared, old boy, I dare say she doesn't bite," John drawled, obviously more amused by the prospect of this kiss than he had been by her kiss with James. Well, she supposed there was less that was threatening in watching her kiss a man who looked at her more as a sister than a romantic prospect.

Giving a nervous laugh, Nigel absently wet his lips, eyes studying her face uncertainly. "You sure you don't mind, Helen?" he murmured quietly.

"Of course not, but you don't have to if you'd rather not, Nigel," she assured him, wondering idly if this was to be his first kiss. If so, it seemed a bit wrong that it be a matter of public spectacle and with a woman he didn't even care for in that way.

He answered with a chuckle and a smile, as wide and open as all his smiles. "I don't mind, Helen," he assured her. "How could I?"

"Well, as long as you don't _mind_ ," she answered with a smile.

He gave another soft laugh in answer, leaning in awkwardly and screwing his lips into a kind of grimace that was probably meant to be the prelude to a kiss. Aware that every eye in the room was on them, she smiled against his lips, ignoring his awkwardness and giving him a gentle, friendly kiss. He made a happy, surprised noise and brought his hand to gently hold hers as he returned the kiss. Even James hadn't had the audacity to hold her hand while he kissed her, but it didn't feel like audacity coming from Nigel, either. Swallowing hard, she gave his hand a gentle squeeze as they both drew back from the kiss.

"Happy Christmas, Helen," he whispered with a shy smile, keeping hold of her hand for a moment before releasing it.

"And to you, Nigel," she answered, unable to resist the urge to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, too.

He gave a soft, sheepish laugh at that, beaming as he drew back. "Well, that was an unexpected Christmas present, I must say..."

Smiling, she pointed out, "My father would be appalled if he knew what this has degenerated into..."

"Well, what the good Doctor Magnus doesn't know can't hurt any of us," John pointed out, smirking. "This is the most fun I've had at a Christmas party in years."

"It's more like an orgy than a Christmas party," Nikola grumbled into his wine.

"Oh, you just need a kiss of your own," James chuckled. "I'll volunteer..."

"Yes, well, as we've established, you'll kiss anyone, given half a chance," the Serb scoffed.

"Nikola, don't be sour," Helen protested. "It's just a bit of Christmas fun..."

He softened at her words, and she was willing to bet she knew how to soften him still further. At a gesture from her, James held the mistletoe above her head again. Nikola looked, to use an apt phrase, like Christmas had come early. Grinning from ear to ear, he hurried forward, kissing her eagerly, albeit a little awkwardly. It wasn't the best kiss she'd had in her life, or even tonight, but it was gratifying if only for Nikola's raw enthusiasm. She'd once heard him describe kissing as 'unhygienic' but, at the moment, that didn't seem to worry him at all. All that he seemed to care about was the slide of lip against lip, and she had to smile as she returned the heated kiss.

"Save some for the rest of us," John interrupted tartly.

Nikola jerked back with a soft hiss, glaring at John. Swallowing hard, Helen took a step back, too, doing her best to ignore her mixed feelings at the abrupt termination of the kiss. She'd enjoyed it, not really wanted it to end so soon. But, at the same time, part of her felt a little flattered by John's unexpected display of jealousy. Clearly, his intention to court her was more decided than he was letting on, and it was exciting to think of a man flattering and fussing and making much of her. There'd been a time when she'd been sure she would never want that but, every time John bowed to her or kissed her hand, she was starting to rethink that certainty.

James was wearing an uncertain expression but, at a gesture from John, he returned the mistletoe to its place over Helen's head. She swallowed hard as it occurred to her that the two must have planned this together. James supplying the mistletoe so John would have an excuse to kiss her properly instead of just on the hand or the cheek as he'd limited himself to doing so far. Her heart hammered in a way it hadn't when she was waiting to kiss the others.

John leaned in slowly, took his time kissing her. It was a good kiss, a confident, skilful kiss that went on and on without ever overstaying its welcome. He wasn't as domineering as he'd been with James. If anything, there was a gentleness to the kiss that left her feeling revered as well as desired. He tangled a hand in her hair, actually nuzzling her face a bit.

By the time he drew away, a short eternity later, she was breathless and light-headed, warm and achy in places she wasn't used to feeling warm and achy. John gave a low, throaty chuckle as he straightened, smiling mischievously down at her.

"Well, that was lovely, don't you think?" he half-purred, letting his hand fall away from her hair.

She made a breathless noise, clearing her throat and trying to ignore the way every eye in the room was suddenly on her. John couldn't have staked his claim more publicly if he'd tried. If any other man had done that...

The mood could have grown uncomfortable but, in an instant, James had snatched up his violin and was playing a merry tune. Laughing, John grabbed her hands and led her around the sitting room in a jig. She giggled in shock, keeping up with the athletic man as best she could. It would have been easier if she'd known the dance, and she must have looked ridiculous, but he didn't give her time to think about that, just led her around and around the room until she was panting.

"John, please," she finally gasped, leaning against his chest. "I can't keep up..."

"And here I thought young ladies of good birth lived to dance," he chuckled, stilling and giving her a chance to rest.

"It's a shame you're tired out," Nigel chuckled. "I wouldn't have minded a dance with you, Helen."

"Give me a minute to recover and I'll dance with all of you," she promised, panting.

"Don't worry," Nigel assured her, resting his hand on her shoulder. "I won't tire you out like John did. I don't dance with half his enthusiasm."

"There's nothing wrong with enthusiasm. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed a gathering of friends half so much," she admitted, smiling warmly at all of them. "Of course, I've never had friends quite like you before."

"Helen, we're flattered," Nikola answered, smiling at her. "And, of course, in consideration of the value you place on our friendship, I'm sure you'll reserve a dance for me, as well?"

"Of course, Nikola," she assured him, ignoring John's slight scowl. "I look forward to dancing with you tonight as well. James, you'll play for us?"

"For all of you, of course, Helen," he agreed, beaming at her and playing a few notes. "Something slow for you and Nigel, and perhaps something by Mokranjac for Nikola?"

Nikola looked up in surprise, expression bemused. "I suppose you want me to be impressed that you know that name?"

"Well, a little appreciation certainly wouldn't hurt," James chuckled. "Do you know how hard I had to search for a musically famous Serb? Especially a contemporary of your own, Nikola?"

"Yes, yes, well, we always knew you were good at research. There's no need to feel so proud of yourself," he scoffed.

"Don't make me come over there with the mistletoe," James warned gently, his eyes twinkling at poor Nikola's suddenly-alarmed look.

"I will take the mistletoe away," she informed James. "You're having entirely too much fun with it, James Watson."

"I'll put it down, then," he chuckled, setting it on the mantle and making a show of holding his hands away from his body as he stepped back from it. "But it'll be back next year, Nikola..."

"James, I can't blame you for wanting a chance with me, but it will never happen."

"Your loss, old boy," James answered, grinning and reaching for his violin again.

This time, he played a Christmas carol, and John took the opportunity provided by the loud music to murmur to her, "Can I bring you out on the town soon?"

"I'd like that," she answered quietly, "but you'll have to ask my father, of course."

"Of course," he agreed, smiling eagerly.

She remained silent after that, enjoying the wonderful music James was so effortlessly creating. After several minutes, Nigel sidled up to her, looking a bit shy.

"Do you mind... I mean..." He trailed off, clearing his throat.

"I'd be happy to dance with you, Nigel," she assured him, smiling and offering her hand.

A quick glance at John showed him to be wearing the complacent smile of a man who knew that the two were more like siblings than anything else. Nikola was watching them with affected indifference, but with a hint of anticipation in his eyes. Grinning at them, James changed the tempo of his playing giving them, as promised, something slow and easy to dance to.

Nigel was a good dancer, if a bit old-fashioned in his choice of steps. Not that she minded in the least. It was nice to dance with a man who didn't look at her and see just a beautiful woman. Her other friends had clearly all taken note of her beauty, but Nigel was much more likely to treat her like just one of the boys. She'd seen him take note of and get flustered by other pretty women in the past, just not by her, and that was somehow refreshing. Just rarely, with the others, she felt at risk of testosterone-poisoning. With Nigel, she never had to worry about that.

Sighing happily, she kissed his cheek as they finished dancing, earning a wide, open smile from him. "We should do that again soon," he told her, stepping back and giving an ironic bow.

She giggled at the mock-chivalry, shaking her head. "Any time you like, Nigel. You'll always have a spot on my card."

He smiled happily at that, giving another bow. "I'll remember that. But first, I believe you owe Nikola a dance."

For just a second, Nikola actually looked alarmed at the idea. Then he scoffed softly. "Your British dances are so stylized. There's no real feeling to them at all."

Which could only be his way of confessing that he didn't actually know any of the dances she did. Biting her lip, she approached, offering a hand.

"If James can provide music, maybe you can show us some of the steps from your country?" she suggested gently. John was looking jealous again, but she ignored that. Nikola was her friend and he was just going to have to get used to the fact that he would remain her friend. "I can't promise I'll pick them up very well, but I'll certainly try."

He smiled slowly at that, glancing sharply at James. "Assuming you actually have the music right..."

Smiling, James bowed. "I did my best to learn it faithfully, Nikola."

"Well, then, let's hear it, James."

James began to play, exotic-sounding notes that started slow but quickly picked up speed. And, looking frankly impressed with his playing, Nikola quickly began to dance, mostly remaining in the same spot despite his legs being a flurry of movement. It was unlike anything she had ever seen before, and so different from anything she had ever expected to see from the normally-dignified Nikola. Grinning, she clapped her hands in time with his jumps, nodding along with the almost frantic music. Nigel was staring, and even John looked impressed despite himself.

Finally, James stopped playing and Nikola stilled, panting and looking tired out but quite pleased with himself.

"I don't think I could possibly manage to dance like that, Nikola," she apologized.

"Not in those skirts, you couldn't," he answered, actually laughing a little.

She had to smile in answer. It was good to see him letting his hair down, so to speak. He was usually so serious, or scathing and sardonic when he tried at humour. His early life had been marked by tragedy and that often showed in his lack of mirth. Today, though, he looked genuinely happy.

Everyone was happy, and the party continued well past midnight. There was more kissing, and more dancing. Nikola even tried to teach James a few steps of Serbian dance, although that ended predictably enough with poor James in a sprawl.

Laughing, John picked him up and dusted him off. "Next time, try being sober, old boy."

"I am perfectly sober!" James protested.

"It's a difficult dance," Nikola contributed, giving James a friendly clap on the shoulder. "You did very well for your first time."

"I might ask you for another lesson soon," James answered with a smile, patting his shoulder. "Thank you, Nikola."

"Well, when someone ends up on the floor, that's usually a sign that a party is drawing to its natural conclusion," Nigel announced, climbing a bit unsteadily to his feet. "Good night, gentlemen. Helen, thank you for a lovely night."

"My pleasure, Nigel. Thank you for coming," she answered, pressing her lips to his cheek and wishing him a merry Christmas.

The others soon took their leave as well, leaving her and John alone in the room. Smiling shyly and glancing at the sprig of mistletoe on the fireplace mantel, she took a step closer.

"Good night, John."

He answered with a warm smile. "I'll be by soon to ask your father's permission to bring you out."

"I'd like that, John..."

"Will you see me as far as the door?"

"It would be my pleasure," she assured him, taking the arm he offered and leaning against him a bit.

"I hope I'll be allowed to kiss you goodnight?" he ventured as they walked towards the door.

"I can think of nothing I'd enjoy more," she admitted, biting her lip. "Is that shocking?"

"Not the most shocking thing I've ever heard," he assured her, eyes twinkling.

"No, and I suspect you've done more shocking things yourself than kissing a girl goodnight."

"Oh, muchmore shocking. You'd be appalled," he assured her gravely.

She laughed softly at that, shaking her head. "Are you a wicked man, then, John Druitt?"

"I certainly have my moments," he teased. "But I don't think that will scare off a girl like you."

"No, a _woman_ like me won't be scared off so easily," she answered.

"My mistake," he answered, drawing back and bowing. "A _woman_ such as yourself won't be so easily daunted."

"And don't you forget that," she answered, smiling.

"No, I won't," he assured her. "May I have that kiss now?"

Feeling shy, remembering that last kiss, she nodded slowly, stepping closer. This time, if anything, was even more intimate than the last. He slid his arms around her and drew her close, holding her body against his as he kissed her, deeply and passionately. Feeling dizzy, she clung to his shirt, chest heaving against his. If the last kiss had left her feeling pleasantly achy, this one ignited a fire inside her. Clinging and panting, she returned the kiss with clumsy enthusiasm, nodding eagerly and whimpering when he drew back.

"Good Lord, John..."

He smiled in answer to that, chuckling. "Will you dream of me?"

She blushed at that, biting her lip and looking down. "I don't see how I could fail to after that."

"Good."

She blushed worse at that. "You are a wicked man, John Druitt..."

"In the best of ways," he whispered, drawing her in for another kiss.

She groaned softly, closing her eyes and giving herself over to the kiss. If he'd suggested, in that moment, that they go to bed, she would have done it, in a heartbeat.

"I should go," he told her instead, whispering the words against her lips. "As much as I might like to do otherwise. Good night, my love."

She blushed and chuckled at those two words from him, covering her mouth with one hand. "Good night, John."

She felt a pang at his withdraw and returned to the sitting room, feeling slightly dazed. Sighing softly, she started gathering together the empty bottles, wishing there was someone she could discuss the eventful night with. She just felt so... unsettled. It had been a delightful evening, and she wasn't unhappy with the idea of a relationship with John. If anything, it had been a long time coming. But, at the same time, it would mark such a change in a life she'd always devoted to her education before. It was scary to consider abandoning the shield of academics for the vulnerability of courtship.

"Helen?"

She jumped, nearly dropping one of the wine bottles in her hand and spinning to face him. "James? What on earth are you doing here?"

"I came back," he answered with a shrug and a sheepish smile. "I'm not quite sure why, but... it seemed right that I do so."

She had to smile at that. It was so like James to anticipate her needs like that. After all, hadn't she just been wishing for a friend to confide in?

"Come in," she murmured, setting down the bottles and moving to sit by the fire.

"It was a charming party," he remarked, settling down next to her.

"I had more fun than I have in a long time," she admitted, smiling over at him.

"But?" he prompted gently.

"Did you plan it, James? You and John?"

"Would you be angry with me if we had?"

"Why help him?"

"He loves you."

"Yes, but you..." she began, biting her lip and reaching for his hand.

"I love you _both_. I want you both to be happy," he told her, sliding his fingers through hers.

"James..."

"You're my best friend, Helen. I couldn't ask for more from you," he assured her, squeezing her hand. "You obviously have feelings for John. So why shouldn't the two of you be together?"

"But don't you want... I'm sorry to be so blunt, James, but I got the impression earlier that you had feelings for me."

"Powerful feelings. Passionate emotions," he answered with a shrug. "But jealousy will never be amongst them."

"And what about... forgive me for asking, but... your feelings for John?"

"I had a bit much to drink and let my emotions get the better of me," he admitted, shrugging again. "But the affection I share with John will never interfere with his courtship of you, I promise. He loves you profoundly."

"That's such a scary thought, James. I've never experienced any of these things before."

"He's a passionate man, but a kind one. He'll be good to you," James promised, squeezing her hands again. "And, if he's ever not, I'll kill him myself. You know that, don't you?"

"Of course. You're a good friend, James. I'm so glad we met," she whispered, resting her cheek against his shoulder.

"So am I," he answered, sliding his arm around her shoulders and squeezing her arm gently.

"If father walked in now..."

"If your father had walked in... at virtually any point during the celebration," he countered, chuckling and smiling down at her. "But I must steal such moments where I can."

"But you really don't mind? John courting me?"

"Not so long as you're happy," he assured her, pressing his lips to her hair. "Your happiness is all I'll ever seek, Helen."

"You're very kind, James," she answered, determined to give him moments like these whenever she properly could in future.

After all, there was nothing remotely wrong in two dear friends enjoying an intimate, platonic moment. John would not mind because he loved James, too, and he would trust her. Of course he would understand the affinity between them. So she closed her eyes and leaned against his shoulder, listening to the fire crackling and enjoying the weight of his arm across her back and his hand on her shoulder.

"Promise me we'll always be friends, James," she whispered finally, not opening her eyes.

"If we live another century, you'll still be the dearest friend I could ever possess. Do you believe me?"

"I think I do," she answered quietly, smiling to herself. "Thank you, James."

"I'm just speaking the truth. But..." He hesitated, clearing his throat. "I should leave soon. It's an indecently late hour for us to be alone together."

"I suppose it is," she sighed. "If the servants were to talk, and that were to get back to my father..."

"I shouldn't like to be banned from this house, let alone whatever... surgical interventions he might plan if he decided I were interfering with his innocent angel of a daughter."

She giggled helplessly at that, blushing and covering her mouth with both hands. "James Watson!"

He smiled warmly at her, giving her arm a squeeze before dropping his hand. "I suppose I should be going now. But I shall make a point of calling on you before the new term begins."

"I'll look forward to that, James," she assured him, reaching for his hands and squeezing them gently. "Good bye, James. Good night."

"Good night," he repeated, climbing to his feet. "I should... remove the evidence," he added, picking up the sprig of mistletoe from its forgotten place on the mantel.

"I suppose you had better. It might shock my father to think I had hosted... _that sort_ of party."

"Especially, I suspect, if he knew that men had been kissing and dancing together. So scandalous," he murmured, biting his lip and actually blushing.

"Scandalous but lovely," she assured him. "You made a spectacle of yourself, but I quite liked seeing it."

"Naughty thing..." He hesitated, fidgeting with the mistletoe. "I don't suppose... in the interest of tradition?"

"In the interest of tradition," she agreed, wetting her lips. "For as many more Christmases as we have, James," she promised.

His mouth found hers before he'd even raised the mistletoe, and his kiss was gentle and loving, considerate and full of affection. His lips were gentle against hers, and she gasped in quiet surprise, aching inside at the response he roused in her.

"Oh, James," she whispered, smiling a little breathlessly.

"Helen Magnus..." He smiled against her lips, squeezing her shoulders. "You're something special. Never doubt that I believe that."

"Thank you, James. I, uh... I look forward to next Christmas."

And, somehow, her heart ached at the idea of only sharing this with him once a year. But he was smiling as he drew back, and he stole a last kiss before straightening and stepping away.

"I thank you, Helen. And I wish you good night."

He bowed, and kissed her hands, one and then the other, smiling warmly at her as he did. Another bow and he threw the incriminating mistletoe into the fireplace before drawing off. He was gone before she could even think to stop him and, somehow, he left her feeling warm inside in a way the first kiss hadn't.

Smiling and shaking her head, she turned her attention to cleaning up the sitting room. It was a task that could have been left to the maids, but one she preferred to handle on her own. When she finally retired to bed, it was with a smile, and with her head full of more than one of the wonderful gentlemen of her acquaintance.

 **The End**


End file.
